Last Valentine's day I donated 3.3 liters of blood.
Enough to replace the 7.7 pounds of red roses
you bled when you found out I loved myself
more than I loved you.

*It killed me.

I heard silence...

In the seconds before I started
In the spaces between my heartbeats
In the breaths I held 'til words were said
I heard silence before secrets were revealed

I hear silence...

In the aftermath of a loud fight
In the emptiness filling my heart
In the vacant space they are leaving behind
I hear silence while I'm falling apart

I'll hear silence...

In the dark as I decide I'm done
In the calm caused by feeling nothing
In the air when my last breath is gone
I'll hear silence after I'm finished living

I was silent** before they thought to listen
I am silent while I decide to just surrender
I'll be silent after I'm forgotten
I'll stay silent 'til I'm the dust making stars flicker

I came across myself today.
I always write negatively to you, but this time my passion of art is seeping through my pores.
I fell in love with a city today.
I think Charleston is what they call her.
She's unique and aged.
Displays life and essence on every corner.
The galleries filled with brush strokes of the oils I once brought life to.
Without my love with me anymore, art becomes the source of sunlight within this aching heart.
It craves the beauty of the world and the olden ground beneath its feet.
Sweetheart find yourself in the oils.

In spite of my tears and the nagging hurt in my chest,
I write—in a fragile paper, perhaps
Hoping against all hopes that the words could save me